


Thanksgorging

by Chubby-derek-and-friends (da_athanasi)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, Chubby Kink, Fat Derek Hale, Feeder Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27739906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/da_athanasi/pseuds/Chubby-derek-and-friends
Summary: Derek spends the day doing what you’re supposed to do on Thanksgiving: stuffing himself!
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Kudos: 52





	Thanksgorging

Derek sat back from the table with a soft groan. His big, round, heavy belly filled his lap and brushed against the edge of the table in front of him, the green sweater he wore (“it matches your eyes, Derek!”) rode up to bare at least eight inches of the soft, blubbery bottom of his furry belly, the knit fabric hugging the rest of Derek’s enormous belly, as well as his wide love handles and flabby moobs. A stained napkin sat tucked into his collar and draped across the top of his proud stomach. 

Derek gently pawed at his stuffed stomach, desperate to ease the pressure after a day filled with unbridled gluttony. 

Beneath him the reinforced chair gave out a squeak as he shifted. His blubbery ass and wide thighs overhung either side of the chair, clad in skin-tight sweats. (Jeans wouldn’t have withstood the growth of the day.) Derek’s chubby bare feet were spread wide in an attempt to brace himself.

Derek let out a soft burp as the food inside him settled, then sighed as the pressure eased softly, and he surveyed the table in front of him. 

A decimated carcas sat in a foil roasting pan. Around it were five or six foil catering trays that had been filled with side dishes (dressing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, Mac & cheese, etc) but now we’re nothing but empty vessels. 

Derek burped again, which became a hiccup, and smiled, self-satisfied. This had been Derek’s fourth meal of the day and he had well and truly conquered it. 

Licking his lips, Derek couldn’t help but think back to the other thanksgiving tables he’d helped clear earlier in the day. 

First had been the Stilinski-McCall luncheon, where Mrs. McCall had filled the table with tamales on top of her turkey and dressing. Their spicy, corn and pork filling had been a delicious beginning to Derek’s day of gluttony, each one slathered with cheese and sour cream. 

Then there had been the Boyd’s. It was only supposed to be a short stop in the early afternoon, but Grandma Boyd had insisted that Derek was looking thin (hah!) and insisted on fixing him several plates. Derek had gleefully devoured her ham and greens, and blissfully stuffed his face with her secret ingredient Mac and cheese (Derek’s tastebuds could determine what that secret was, but he’d never tell), then enjoyed a sweetened break in the day’s savory march with a mounded bowl of peach cobbler. The golden crust and plump, gooey filling settled something in Derek, though it didn’t sate his growling hunger.

Next there was the Pack Thanksgiving, co-hosted by Jackson and Lydia. They’d had the dinner catered, neither of them much of a cook and both knowing it would be a folly to try and feed a pack of werewolves without reinforcements, especially on a day when most people found reasons to stuff themselves. Derek had done his best to help clear the table there, though he had been a bit slowed. The other wolves had participated in the annual ritual of presenting Derek with a plate as a way to show their loyalty, submission, and dedication to their alpha, and Derek had spent a fair bit of time clearing them one after another. By the time he’d gotten up from that table, his belly had been stretched like a Boulder in front of him.

This last and fourth meal had been a special surprise from his husband. Stiles had plopped him down in front of the table and stood behind him, leaning down to whisper in his ear, “alright, big guy...I don’t want a single leftover. Think you can handle that?” 

Derek had growled playfully, then dove in, shoving bite after mounded bite of food into his mouth, a part of his competitive self driving him to higher and higher feats of gluttony as his belly swelled to hold it all. 

Now he was finished. Done. Stuffed beyond human capacity. His belly was a hard yoga ball of food coated in blubber in front of him, and Derek could feel the food filling him all the way up to his throat.

“Wow.”

Derek turned his chubby-cheeked face to look at his husband, who stood in the doorway to their dining room. 

“You did it, big guy.”

Derek smirked up at Stiles, his arms wrapped around his belly as he continued to rub and massage the surface in an effort to scare up a few air bubble from its mass. 

Stiles walked up to Derek’s bloated form and leaned down. He hooked his fingers under the hem of Derek’s sweater and pulled it up until it revealed the mass of his belly, rolling up around his soft chest. Derek smelled the wave of lust that wafted off of Stiles as he took in Derek’s engorged belly and felt his own Dick throb in response. 

“Jesus, Der,” Stiles whispered, hands groping and grabbing at the enormous sphere of belly. “God, you’re such a pig-wolf!” 

Derek’s eyes flashed red at the nickname, and he attempted to growl, but was interrupted by another hiccup and belch. “Your...HIC...pig-wolf.”

Stiles leaned down and kissed Derek hungrily, licking the stray bits of gravy and cranberry sauce from his lips and chin. His hands continued to roam Derek’s fat, bloated body. “Jesus, Der, you’re so fucking big!” He moaned.

Derek bucked his hip ineffectually, trapped in the chair by his own blimp belly and now by Stiles in front of him.  
“Stiles…” he moaned back.

Stiles backed away from Derek. “Up!” He commanded. 

Derek groaned as he shifted his weight forward slightly, then tried to push himself up from the chair, but his stuffed belly was too heavy. 

Stiles grabbed Derek’s hands and pulled, this time Derek’s big fat body rising with the effort of the two of them, until Derek stood erect, his enormous gut sticking out for feet in front of him, a counterbalance to the way his ass rounded out behind him. 

Wordlessly, Stiles pulled Derek out of the dining room and across the hall to their bedroom. Derek puffed like a freight train as he waddled along behind Stiles. His bare belly sloshed and swayed in front of him as his broad hips and ass sashayed from behind. 

When they got into the bedroom, Stiles wasted no time, immediately sliding his hands under Derek’s sweatpants and boxers and pulling both down with a swift motion. Then he stood back up and wrapped his arms as far around Derek as they could go, looking into Derek’s eyes with unmistakable lust. 

“Jesus, Der, you’re fucking enormous tonight. God, I would fuck you but I’d be worried you’d bust this big round belly wide open!”

“I can...take it…” Derek insisted, still panting somewhat. 

“You sure, big guy?” Stiles smirked.

Derek pushed past Stiles, shaking his legs out of the sweats and underwear, then bent himself over the end of their king-size bed. His belly pressed firmly into the mattress, so much so that he has to extend his arms fully to support himself. He looked back over his shoulder at Stiles with a raised eyebrow. 

Stiles licked his lips as he took in the picture in front of him. Derek’s fat ass was spread, his gut almost another bed for him to lie on. Stiles saved the mental image away for later, hopefully they’d have a repeat performance of this sometime. But for now, Stiles stripped off his own sweater and jeans, his cock standing at attention. “Guess it’s dessert time, then.” He said. 

Moving around to the bedside table, Stiles grabbed both the type of lube and the bakery box there. He opened up the box and pulled out a pumpkin pie, Derek’s favorite, and placed it on the bed in front of Derek’s face. “Think you can handle that, big guy?”

Derek’s expression was less sure this time, but he nodded determinedly. He reached down a hand and pulled one of the pre-sliced wedges out, then stuffed it into his mouth. He moaned at the flavor. 

“Such a fucking pig-wolf for me,” Stiles moaned. His cock throbbed as he watched Derek bloat his cheeks with the rest of the slice, then he slid back behind Derek and began lubing up his fingers. 

“Jesus, Der, you’re so fucking fat!” He said, reaching past Derek’s ass cheeks to his hole, where he pressed and massaged before inserting a finger. 

Derek moaned, bucking forward and back at the sensation, his belly sloshing. 

“Pretty soon I won’t be able to fuck you fat-ass,” Stiles teased as one finger became two, then three, stretching and massaging. 

Derek felt his own cock throb at that. Christ, was he really getting that fat? The idea only made him hotter as he stuffed another slice of pie into his mouth. 

Eventually Stiles had Derek stretched out, and he stepped up to line himself up with Derek’s hole. The fat of Derek’s ass made the task slightly difficult, but Stiles just spread his ass wider with his hands and slid into Derek. 

Derek moaned at the feeling. 

Stiles slid in and out of Derek, gripping the wide expanse of Derek’s love handles as he pushed deeper and deeper into his husband. “Getting so fucking wide, babe,” he said.

Derek began chewing and swallowing in rhythm with Stiles’s thrusts. 

Stiles could feel Derek’s fat and his stuffed belly sway and slosh beneath them. That sensation, combined with the overload of watching Derek pig out all day was quickly driving him to the edge. 

“How many slices, Der?”

Derek gulped and panted, his own hard cock buried between the blubber of his thighs and underbelly rubbed back and forth in the precum he’d released all day as his belly had grown rounder and fuller. 

“Four,” he said.

Stiles slammed against Derek, “Fuck, you’re a pig!” 

Derek stuffed in the next slice, his ears reddening at the nickname like they always did, his cock throbbing. 

“Gonna come, Der!” Stiles moaned out, rocking himself in and out and in and out, Derek’s massive ass quaking around him.

Derek stuffed in another piece and moaned. 

Stiles came at the sound, hips bucking in short thrusts. His hands gripped Derek’s flab hard enough to leave bruises if Derek hadn’t been a werewolf.

Derek wasn’t far behind. He stuffed in the last two slices, his cheeks rounded like his belly as he came, cum shooting down his legs and into the bottom fold of his belly fat. 

Stiles collapsed onto Derek’s back, leaving kissing on the fat rolls of his neck. 

Derek groaned at the added weight, his stomach more crop-full than he could have imagined before.

“Stiles...gonna pop…” he panted out. 

Stiles’s Dick gave a half-hearted throb at that, but Stiles stood back up, and helped Derek roll onto his side and scoot further up the bed before joining him. They lay together, Derek’s beanbag-sized belly between them. 

“Jesus, Derek,” Stiles said, stroking his husband’s enormous gut, “you’re so fucking beautiful like this.”

Derek smiled back, blissed out on a food coma and cum-drunk. “So...full…” he whispered.

“I got you, babe,” Stiles muttered softly, and began rubbing Derek’s belly in earnest, doing his best to relieve the pressure. 

After a few minutes, Derek’s breathing evened out and he began to snore softly, his fat cheeked face smooshed into the pillow. 

Stiles couldn’t help but smile, continuing to lovingly massage the belly of his love, and began planning in his head how to feed Derek more for Christmas.


End file.
